Sunny Side Up
by RocketLawnchair
Summary: Sympathy wasn't quite the word for it. Understanding, perhaps. And that was his first mistake. Recruiting her was the second. Still yet, in every grating test of character, Reaper couldn't help the kindness he felt for her. She shared a story he knew all too well, and maybe that was enough.
1. Chapter 1: Fair Weather Friends

**Sunny Side Up  
** _For fair weather friends_

* * *

Life seemed so far away.  
A memory lost to a dream, one mislaid in waking, only to find she never had, drowning instead in the tangled throes of a nightmare that had become her {life}. Suppose it never had been, simply was. Out of reach that is. Somewhere, just beyond her grasp, an inkling of a thought once was. Missed even, but unbelievable not that it couldn't have happened – that it did.

She wasn't the only one {un}fortunate.  
Odd;  
To say the least.  
That much was certain. A victim to circumstance veiled in goodwill – he could understand that and she supposed he did. The way his finger hesitated on the trigger of a gun. Both of them wishing someone had pulled the trigger long ago. Too stubborn to admit they already had, suffering its wound every day.

Irony wasn't the word for it.  
But it worked just the same.

"They did this to you?" It was a statement of fact, muttered on the guise of question if only to be polite. The answer was before him, strewn out over light cabinets where black film developed intricate works of biological art. By all accounts, the trauma to her body had been so severe that recovery, if even to be confined to a hospital bed, was enormously unlikely, if not a complete miracle. Recognition carried in his posture, stayed an itching trigger finger where penitence forfended gaze- yet his face had remained impassive behind a grim effigy.

For once, Death hesitated.

Sani hadn't the energy to move, let alone fight for her life. And truth be told, her get up had all but gone, buried among the rubble of Calado's enterprise., wrapped in gauze and cut to a hospital no one knew existed. Vishkar's despot concern had filched Rio overnight and reshaped its streets to their whim. Every stretch of road and hearth of home had been rekindled by new _**light**_ \- new " _opportunity_ " they called it. The tragedy had precipitated new ventures where theory breathed life to science; If hard light could build buildings, why not bone? Sani had been the first of fortune's {un}favored few. Crushed beneath the fold of a lost empire, the Window Rock intern all but lost to paralysis.

 _Brick and stone.  
Blood and bone._

She still bore the scars of their work, glowing beneath the soft flesh of skin that healed seemingly overnight. Truthfully, it had been only two weeks - still yet, "only" and her body had restructured every trauma that riddled a broken body. One better left for dead, more so - _granted_. Though fortune pitied her on clouded remembrance.  
Where she simply couldn't, if not fully recall - any of it. Glimpses educed on adrenaline laced heart beats set to the rhythm of "I am going to die" allowed succinct insight to her most recent past. The crushing weight of a collapsing building, the absolute numbness that embraced her ( _shock_ , they had called it), the ringing that drowned a world consumed in flames, and the absolute shit-pantsingly horrifying realization that 'this was it' ; Her life was over and it never amounted to anything more than a cabinet full of poorly drafted floor-plans.

"Oh fuck," were the words she spoke, resigned to a succeeding end on dead sarcasm, "You're going to kill me, huh? This sucks."

"No," rasped the dead. Dark tendrils of smoke coiled about his countenance. Wisps of ghostlike serpents, hissing softly as they breathed about the whittling of his shoulders.

He made her uneasy.  
Not so similar to the way one might perceive a snake.  
Nor such a blacktop in winter.  
Much more as a rabbit might pursue a wolf.  
A disquiet completely separate her initial and enduring fear. It was a deep seated king of rats that gnawed, chewed and tugged at her insides as a stranger to Life lingered on every note of hers. _Scrutinized h_ er terminality, a pornography of bone on black film, illuminated there in the dark of a light night hospital wing.

The hospital bed creaked beneath her as she shifted her weight, stressing newly healed bones as she sat upright. She winced at every motion as pain set between the stiffness of every joint. Nose scrunched to discomfort, she addressed former declaration, "Hard light," she said, "That's why the X-rays look like that. All blurry and shit. Doctors keep calling it something like, F.E.P, not sure what it stands for, something very complicated I bet. They say within a year I won't be able to move at all. Not sure how I feel about it yet. Guess it could be worse," she shrugged, sleek hinged-braces facilitating every rigid move, "So," the syllable danced on her tongue, drawn to the cadence of a curious song, "If you're not here to kill me, then who _are_ you here to kill?"

Sani's unapologetically average life had managed a lottery's draw of happenstance. Calado. Vishkar. And now...this.  
Whatever _**this**_ was.  
Though if he was quite determined, she would certainly be quick to implicate Vishkar Corporation. After all, it was their procedures that had stripped her from its grasp. And if her kindle were to be snuffed on their error, then they would undoubtedly follow her to the grave.  
But as she turned her eyes up to greet his shadow once more - she found her question answered by an empty room.

She frowned.

Surely he had been there just a moment before, she could swear by his form, recant every feature of his ghost. Unless of course - that's all he had been, a shadow of a thought, a bedridden patient's conjuration of company, terrifying but true, or as true as a mind could manifest. No, that certainly wasn't right.  
Was it?

With great effort she swung her feet out of bed. Her legs were weak beneath her, unaccustomed to the literal walk of life despite every therapy provided. She peered about the room, examining every inch of corner, squinting into every pitch of dark as if, by willpower alone, she were to summon her Reaper's countenance to form. Yet he never did - and remained a worrisome question of sanity to the forefront of her mind.

Her gaze drifted to the cabinets of film that had so utterly entranced the dead.

For a long moment she stared into their capture before raising her hand to touch its take. The plastic creaked beneath her press, fingertips illuminating a soft blue as they reacted to the light that coursed through not only the fluorescent board, but the building itself. With a twist of her wrist and a pinch of fingers, she gripped the tendrils of light and manipulated their course. She was no Vishkar architech, her ability to control and direct an unpracticed guesstimation, granted by way of fortuitous consequence. If there were anything to take from Vishkar's fault – she was glad to find it was this. Everything they'd built their empire on - inadvertently transcribed to the genetic code of her being.

The light cabinet went dark.  
And so with it – the silver of film.


	2. Chapter 2: Sow The Wind

**Sunny Side Up**  
 _And Sow the Wind_

* * *

The plush leather chair sighed as the hacker leaned into it, the harsh pink glow of her HUD illuminating the darkness that crept among her _office_. Her world was quick to succumb to the pitch of night, hours fleeting to the stroke of a key. Most days were like this, sequestered to her own, of her own, plucking at the threads of every intricate web that tied the world together - and the days that weren't, spent unraveling their weave among the corporations that bid to rule. Every designation fixed to the spider's nest, where nature stormed silk thread influence and settled her eye on the power of bond.

' _The enemy of my enemy…_ ' they say.  
And she certainly was.  
 _The_ enemy.  
But, she preferred –

" _ **Sombra**_."  
Reaper's voice was a graveled rub, somewhere lost between the realms, echoing on the memory of a ghost. It was steam in her earpiece, listing on its own wind, drawing her back to the task at hand.

"What's up?" her fingers danced through the air, rearranging the portfolio displayed before her. Screens shuffled at the flick of her wrist, worlds saturated in sigils of Blue and Red faction, set to the backdrop of the galaxy before her where the stars of modern Architech took their place. Floor plans read an overlay to her crude match where radar blips of color coded light marked each pawn set to the board. A secondary panel illuminated thirty-four separate views, all sliced from the cameras that monitored the off campus medical bay; and even still, as Talon commanded her attention, she stealed small glances to Korgath's realm where small bids steadily battened banks.

"I need you to pull all the medical files on Sani Brewer," Reaper said.

"Ah, I figured you might ask," Sombra said. Reaper's hesitation in the C Wing had piqued her own interest, after all, not many people gave him pause - and those that did, were often worth a more intimate look. A self centered sympathy bred interest and quite quickly Sombra found herself dousing the fires of every failsafe set to cut her course. Sani Brewer was as much a ghost as the former Blackwatch Agent - or at least, that had been Vishkar's intention.

She drew up the requested files on a pianist's grace, "You two got a lot in common you know. After what happened to Calado, this Brewer girl was taken by a Medtech named Patel. Severe crush trauma, fractures in both arms and legs, cranial and spinal fractures, observable paralysis in both legs," She tapped through each tab of report, " ¡Qué asco! They even have pictures!" she announced.

Reaper's impatient groan carried her back.

"Patel signed off on a Death's Certificate that day, looks like he took advantage of the situation. He used hard light to set her bones and rewire her nervous system. It worked, well, sort of," she drew up several more profiles, banks buried by Vishkar at the tragedy befallen Calado in hopes that Sani Brewer would remain there with it. "They're calling it ' _Fibrodysplasia Entropican Progressiva_ ', it says here that her cells started degenerating to a state of Hard Light, which makes sense based on what she told you. Her file is incredibly long, even by medical standards," she stated offhandedly before swiping the data file off screen and directing its traffic to the network that sewed through Reaper's mask. "What exactly are you thinking anyway?" she asked.

There was a momentary pause as Reaper considered the files, "Recruitment," came his curt response.

Sombra clicked her tongue in equal contemplation, "I mean, it _is_ possible," she said, "But unlikely. You're talking about taking in some girl who was just nearly crushed to death by an _entire_ building - **two weeks ago**! She's an iatrogenic _disaster_ , probably more trouble than what it's worth, she might not even be able to walk!" She exhaled sharply as she orchestrated a change of scenery, directing the footpath of her Rogue between a miscellany of addons. "Buuuuut," she hummed a distant syllable, tapping her finger to her nose in thought, "Having an _Architech_ on our side could prove...beneficial." Her words were careful, paced considerately to personal resolve. Vishkar was no longer some executive's reverie, but a physically attainable autocratic accomplishment. Hard Light had reshaped the world - and so too had it the people within it.

Some more so literally than others..  
And this, Sombra recognized, was Sani's advantage.  
 _Their_ advantage.  
And with no ties to Vishkar, save the plastic med-band wrapped around her wrist, Sani was the perfect candidate to enlist alongside those other jilted fallouts.

"Alright," she said on a grandiose shrug of the shoulders, "You've sold me. How do you want to handle this?"

"Send an extraction team."

Sombra frowned and planted her hands firmly to her hips as she scolded the HUD before her. "Why would I send an extraction team when you are _right_ there, culo?" Her accent laid words thickly as she threw her hand up in gesture. "Forty-five minutes from dispatch," she continued, "to finish a job _you_ could do in five. Tell you what, I'll talk to her; And have her rendezvous with you outside the Laghari project..."

"I'm here to do a job," Reaper inned, "Not to babysit."

Playful irritation cut the temper of her voice, "Well, you know what they say," she conjured a library of song, snapped a tune to her play, pressed her finger to the volume slider and dragged it all the way up.

 _ **d**_ _You can't always get what you want,  
_ _You can't always get what you want,_ _ **b**_

"Get to work, Reaperonni," Sombra's voice was barely audible amidst the cacophony of The Rolling Stones, "We haven't got all day." She flashed a devious grin to her aerial console.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I apologize for the short update, doing my best to try and sneak some fun in between my 60hr weeks =A=  
Thanks to everyone who stops by, reads and/or favs! I very much appreciate it! ~ _


	3. Chapter 3: Reap the Whirlwind

**Sunny Side Up**  
 _Reap the Whirlwind_

* * *

Sani spent the next several moments contemplating her own delirium. Eyes still lingering on a machine's depiction of her own intimacies, wondering when exactly she had lost all rationality. Two weeks confined to any space would surely prod upon predisposition, what with all the medications her doctors had afforded on her anomaly; But she couldn't honestly admit to any prior phantasmal delusions. And if it weren't for the unremitting pain that snaked through every nerve of body, Sani might suspect herself dreaming.

This reality, was awfully unnerving.

 _Bzzzz.  
_ _Bzzzz.  
Bzzzz._

Sani spun around, brow furrowing to the soft vibrations coming from her hospital suite night stand. She hurried across the room and snatched up the holo-tab. The mechanical brackets slid open and illuminated a screen of light. A sugar skull painted itself into the blue beams of light before a digital tear deconstructed its image and replaced it with a single word.

 _[Connected_.]

Her attending nurses had provided her the device to stay her boredom, loaded with mindless games and basic connectivity, but assuredly none to any telephone lines, or most any mainstream social network or video sharing sites; Protocol. One Sani never questioned, after all, most hospitals took a strict stance on electronics within their facilities.

 _[Connected..]_

Suffice it to say, Sani was confused when she received the call and even more so on realizing this fact - that someone _had called._ With no registry to its device, the possibility of error on misdial was unlikely - if not completely impossible. Which made every realization all the more disconcerting. Whoever had called had done so… _on purpose_ and knew exactly who was on the other end of that line.

 _[Connected…]_

"Uh? Hello?" Sani asked tentatively

"Listen up, LightBright," [Connected] said, "Because in about two minutes a group of heavily armed men will be coming into your room. Way I see it, is you've got two choices. Surrender or run. Best option for you, would be running."

"Who is this?" Sani asked.

"At the moment," said the woman, "I'm your best friend, and they - not so much. I can explain later, but, right now, you need to move."

"What?" Sani asked.

"People," said the voice. "With big guns. Are coming to use those guns. On you." She punctuated every word on a denigrating tongue.

"Well, you don't have to be rude," Sani stated flatly.

"And you don't have to be dumb, yet here we are!"

Sani pursed her lips in bitter flat irritation, "Why?" She started, "Why would anyone be...wait," her gaze snapped back to the cabinet of X-Rays. "That guy," she breathed to recollection, "That guy! That guy with the hood, he's who they're here for aren't they?" Her tone took on sharp excitement, piqued by a sudden realization that couldn't help but accuse [Connected]'s assumed associations to reason.

"Excuse me?" [Connected] said, "How are you going to tell me he isn't there to protect _you_?"

A gaped pause came Sani's only response.

"Yeah," said [Connected], "Piensa antes de hablar."

"But-"

"Ah-ah," [Connected] interjected, "I already told you, I don't have time to explain. So either get moving, or get shot. Your choice, Sunny. I'll send the information to your holo-tab."

The Holo-tab's mechanical whir alerted her to the caller's drop.  
Sani frowned at the empty screen of light.

[Disconnected.]  
[Disconnected..]  
[Disconnected…]

 _Blip!_

A windowed database opened of its own accord, two screens of contrasting usefulness: One, linked to localized security terminals mounted in Sani's wing. The second, a PhosCAD database of intricate floor design where a blue pin of light illuminated Sani's location.

"Huh," she knit her brow, briefly examining the floor plan, {noting a course of light that directed her pathway from room to exit}, before video footage stealed notice. She tapped the screen, drawing up the feed from labeled CAM5. True to the mysterious caller's report, a small squad of positively-and-absolutely-not-nurses stormed stark hallways. Everything about them read militant, haphazardly so, through every stitch of armored vest and badge, nothing quite all the same, but synchronized in every turn of direction and point of aim. There were three of them, hardly a group, but still one all the same:

One _Commander,_ one _gunslinger_ , and a _ghost_ she did not recognize.

Sani felt her heart sink to the very pit of an empty stomach, and then lower still where it weighed down the tread of her feet. She looked up to her doorway, focused with every radar of sense only to find she couldn't quite hear past the beating in her ears. Even had her heart stopped, that very instant would still yet great her with sickening silence. Every sense of logic picked by the gnaw of nascent anxiety, growing on every stayed breath and strain of ear. Thoughts poured over themselves in a maelstrom of uncertainty, where enemies and friends became a muddled mix of "who knows."

Vishkar.  
[Connected].  
'Group of Heavily Armed Men.'

Sani tapped out of the security link and expanded the floorplans. Her blue dot remained a doubtful blip on the radar. [Connected]'s proposed route of escape prodded hopeful flight, illuminated wings that peeled through the nightmare warren that indemnified her {Sani's} "wellbeing." And just below that, not four corners away, turned the skein of soldiers.

They say that, in moments faced with vicious uncertainty – _time stands still_.  
This, Sani found, was incredibly deceiving.  
Time, in fact, moves very fast.

Heroptionswerequicklybecomingmuchlessso. Witheverystayofhesitation,timecreptonandthosesoldiersneverpaused. Everysecondtickofhand,wasoneclosertoadecisionmadeonthewhimofchaos. Surrenderorrun. Andmuchmoreloudly...

 _ **Run**_.

She had no shoes, no personal effects, nor clothes to her name, just a hospital gown, medical braces, and holo-tab. Not that any of _those_ were truly hers to begin with and she certainly had no stark intention to claim - not that she ever intended to return them. Situational-Stealing she called it. And promised herself amends on escape.  
 _Escape?  
_ Was that truly what this was?

She gulped down her fears, clutching the device to her chest as she passed to the open door of her room. The sounds of heavy footfalls greeted her, the soft clink of metal against metal and the overpowering aroma of an ashy-cedar cigar. Sani recognized the Commander of their troop immediately, the predatory pitch of form that carved his path through the halls. He was cut from old cloth, stitched to the pattern of a lost era, where scars composed a war torn tapestry across his face. Behind the glow of his visor, though, Sani couldn't discern any sympathy to his eyes.

"Hey!" The Commander's voice was harsh, demanding Sani's standstill and failing to the overpowering fear laced adrenaline that coursed through her light rich veins.

She barely took a moment to consider him, taking off just as soon as his breath began to sound on "H-" Her feet slapped against cold linoleum, fingers tightly gripping the holo-tab where her pathway diminished on every step. Sani hadn't looked down since the missive, an eidetic memory committing the layout of Vishkar's medbay to mind. It had always been her knack, one only particularly useful to her study; conscripting layouts before they'd ever even been established in foundation, drawing every plan on the gridline of her mind. She was an excellent draftsman, but a terrible athlete - and the severity of injuries, even healed, were apparent in her more than occasional stumbling.

Or so she'd certainly be quick to blame.

"Get after her." the Sniper called from the Commander's heels.

"I'm on it," he grunted.

He was impressively light on his feet, and Sani was impressively uncoordinated, staggering along like a hospital drunk runaway. Every muscle in her ached, unaccustomed to the everyday drive of the world, conditioned to the fold of a hospital bed. Despite daily therapies, there was nothing to stay the amalgamation of Light that affected Sani's bones, slowly creeping into every tissue of her being. The stiffness would never go away, doctors assured her, it would only get worse.

She figured - this was worse.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thanks again to all who stop by, read, favourite and review! :D I apologize for any errors, I've been pouring over this for a few days now and it's all starting to run together for me XD I hope it's somewhat readable!  
\- To TheForceUser: Thank you so much! I'm super glad you're enjoying it, and again thank you so much for taking the time to leave a comment, I really do appreciate it._


	4. Chapter 3: Reap the Whirlwind 2

**Sunny Side Up  
** _Reap the Whirlwind_

* * *

H  
a  
l  
l  
w  
after hallway passed her by on unsteady legs, struggling to maintain distance... ... ... ... ...  
y

E  
v  
e  
r  
y

.lungs heavy on in breathed ,white antiseptic of blur repetitive a turn... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

W  
i  
the soldier hot on her heels. Just one nervous breath from her... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...  
h

W  
h  
e  
r  
e

every pound of tread stole just a bit more, until she was left holding on to a sigh. And he, just a fingertip's graze from the wisps of her black hair, reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Stop running," his demand was more a courtesy of focus, even had she wanted on every beat of heart to keep going, his grip held her effectively still. "I'm not going to hurt you." Words meant for comfort bitterly tore at their own sympathies, betrayed by the leather bound grip of the Soldier, groaning beneath the bite of his knuckles as he begged her ground.

"Let go!" Sani's exclamation was punctuated by a sudden burst of light.  
The Soldier recoiled from his own grip as the glare pierced through his visor's shield.

Sani exhaled.  
((...A breath she'd long since forgotten…))  
Whispered a curse to the winds as her own bewildered eyes found his. And confusion joined a recognized glance, where stars still blinded a Soldier's gaze. She felt her body turn, slowly separating itself from the chronology of time, an apparition of its own will, moving to the tune of a minute hand **pause.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

– and then, all too quickly, catching up.

Black tendrils of silk curled about her shoulders, wayward strands clinging to the sweat upon her cheeks as a fever rush coursed through her.

The Soldier cursed beneath his breath as Sani slipped from his grasp, further now on a head, where she left him reeling in the sudden shock of a biological defense. "What the hell was that," he grunted.

"Looked like a flash bang," said the Gunslinger plainly.

The Soldier cast a sidelong glance of rhetoric, eliciting a smug grin from beneath the shadow of that quick-hand's Cattleman. His gaze shifted back to the halls before him, glaring still into that delirium of light. He sprinted forward between the squeak of a hard rubber sole and linoleum.

"You know, you use one of them fancy darts," the Gunslinger tilted his chin to the Sniper, "make this a whole lot easier."

"If I am going to shoot anyone, it's going to be you," the Sniper tugged his hat down over his eyes. "Besides," her voice was a soft coo, "She's scared-not a threat, Jesse. Jack has it under control." She cradled the biotic rifle in her arms, content to the Soldier's chase and welcomed the moment's reprieve.

Jesse McCree adjusted his hat. Sani couldn't see the way he relaxed into his bearing or how he hooked his thumbs to the lip of his belt where soft leather-gloved fingers curled over garish pride. Softer still, lingered the quiet conversation between he and the Sniper.

"You really think he's here?" He chewed on the cigar pressed between his lips, a feigned confidence glanced on the glint of the eye as quiet remorse broke his usual cool.

"I _know_ he is," said the woman. "Talon has had their eyes set on Vishkar ever since Patel Laghari's breakthrough in Bioluminescence. With the conspiracy around the Calado incident, it is no wonder they chose to attack now."

"Yeah," said McCree, "I get that, but why _him._ Doesn't exactly fit his M.O."

"Infiltrating, murdering and stealing from a government sanctioned corporation? What _exactly_ doesn't fit?"

"Fair point."

"He's not the man he used to be, Jesse" the Sniper said carefully, "Don't forget that."

McCree's jaw tensed around the chew of his cedar swathed tobacco.  
The Sniper shared in his resentment.

"Just McCree," he reminded her, "Feel like I'm in trouble when you use m'name, like you're gonna ground me," he chuckled.

"You are _always_ trouble," she tittered.

Their amusement broke by the sudden snap of rifle to arms as the woman drew to attention. Her one good eye narrowed on the hospital wing as the weight of every dark corner set in on the heaviest parts of her. Fingers curled about habit as her breath caught in her chest.

McCree didn't need further reason to posture himself to draw, hands snapping to the six shooter at his hip, poised for the drop of a hat.

The Soldier stopped.  
Sani fell.  
And the halls…  
The halls continued to move without them, pitched to shadow as fluorescence yielded to aphotic black. Thick smoke poured through the narrow walk like a tidal wave, tendrils spiraling over one another before splashing into the linoleum where a familiar sort of _man_ formed in its wake. A laugh like thunder rolled on the black storm that grew about him, stooped shoulders rumbling with every breath, choked behind a portrait of the dead.

"Reyes," Jack's hands flew to the pulse rifle on his back.

"Miss me?" The shadow's visage tilted upwards, exposing the bone white of Death's effigy.

The Soldier's pulse rifle clipped free its holster and fell neatly into the fold of the man's hands. He brought its sights to aim as the conscious of a shadow stepped forth. But intent failed on a fleeting memory. His finger twitched against the trigger, a pressure short of fire, unaware of just how close Reaper had drawn and realizing his mistake on a dime. He fired, all too slowly, sending a spray of bullets into the wall as Reaper latched a vulture's grip about the barrel of his rifle. In one fluid motion, he had stepped into the Soldier and slammed the stock into his visor.

"Still too slow," he said darkly, stripping the man of his weapon, "You never were any good at that." The Soldier folded a hand instinctively to the impact's bruise as Reaper let his {Soldier's} weapon fall to the ground.

It fell with a heavy 'clack', rocking on the uneven build of frame, just an arm's reach from Sani. She coughed, swathed in the Reaper's ghost. Everything hurt, a painful ringing that coursed through every stitch of body, stressed on freshly healed wound and bone reminding her, quite plainly, that she was not ready for any strive, let alone passivity. Her heart was a panicked drum, frantically pounding in her ears as lightning snaked through every nerve on realizing her errors.

"When are you going to give it up, Jack?" Reaper hissed.

Her pained gaze acknowledged the world around her, slowly identifying figures in the dark of the hospital. Reaper stood before her, his back a perfect silhouette to the dim of the Soldier's visor, and further on beyond their standoff, stood the Gunslinger and the Sniper, caught in the glow of the quick-hand's cigar.

"You can't keep playing hero," he said.

"I figure," grunted Jack, "You've still got your costume, I might as well keep mine," he drew his sidearm and fired, only to watch the bullets pierce through a plume of smoke.

Sani had seen enough movies to realize, despite all predisposition, that this leather bound villain, was in fact, just so. _A villain_.  
Truly evil.  
Perhaps not in all ways.  
But enough of some.  
No normal boy-scout, she marked, can conjure himself from the shadows. That was an art reserved for demons and no-gooders.

"You took everything from me," growled the air about them.

Maybe...not _so_ bad? A victim of circumstance?  
Relatable even?

He didn't shoot _her_ after all...

"I figure you owe me that."

Reaper's figuration built on the wisps of the shadows behind Jack, unfolding his arms from across his chest, gripping hellfire between his talons.

The Soldier dove forward, holstered his sidearm and rolled beneath the blast of those shotguns. He snatched up his rifle and fired a spiral of rockets into a wither of a form that disintegrated before their impact.

 _Nope.  
_ _Still bad_

Sani shielded herself from the gunfire, throwing her arms over her head as if by sheer willpower alone, she'd render herself indestructible.

"You ok?" Grunted the Soldier.

Sani gave a thumbs up; And immediately flinched to a sudden pop of fire.

Reaper's body pitched forward as a rapid succession of bullets struck him in the back. He growled, predatory instinct stooping shoulders, guns clutched tighter even as he turned to face the slow approach of an out of place desperado and his Peacekeeper.

"Ana weren't kidding," McCree said, flicking his wrist to expel a rain of spent ammunitions, "You _do_ look different." He pressed new round to load and rolled the cylinder back to lock, "It's the smoke thing, isn't it? You didn't used to do that before right? Reckon I would remember that," he mused in good humor.

Reaper fired at the Cowboy, blowing his hat clean off his head.

Whether his intention were to miss on purpose - or were simply by accident, was beside. McCree stood dumbfounded for that split half a second before looking to the spray riddled Cattleman, then back to Reaper, "Now you _know_ that was my favorite hat!" He pointed with the barrel of his revolver.

Reaper didn't acknowledge the comment.

Soldier got to his feet, cradling his rifle beneath one arm as he extended the other to Sani. He gestured for her follow, and this time, she did.

Her legs fumbled beneath her, sliding useless over the slick tile before steadying and allowing her to push up with the Soldier's help. Behind them, McCree lunged for Reaper with hat-based intentions.

"Are you ok?" Sani asked, recognizing the sliver of a crack that ran through the man's visor.

"I'm fine," he said, "Get out of here."

 _Well, that certainly is redundant_ , she thought. After all, what did he expect her to do? Play Cowboys and Super Soldiers with them? She scrambled off down the hall, with a fleeting mind to ' _fuck absolutely all of that_.' This wasn't her fight, it never was. How in the hell she had _ever_ got tangled within it was beyond her. Yet, she had a terrible feeling that, regardless of wherever "out of here" was- she was sure it was knotted up somewhere within their yarn.

She ducked into an examination room to learn that those strands didn't travel far. Sani slammed into the chest of a woman swathed in the bionics of a fast paced future.

:\\\" _Hola_."

She waved, her fingers delicately feathering through reality, deconstructing in a trail of computerized fuchsia drag.  
And then, the world disappeared in a pixelated blink

* * *

 **AN:** Action sequences were never my friend, hopefully it all came through smoothly! Thanks for stopping by, reading, faving, following, reviewing - I appreciate it! ~


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